Neither Here nor There
by That One Random
Summary: It starts and ends with the moments in between; the quiet moments, the ones where the world just stops, pauses and breathes; the ones where time flows slow and thick like a sweet honey. A collection of one shots/drabbles ranging from angst to fluff.
1. Chapter 1

The first time she sees him cry, she doesn't quite know how to react. His tears were quiet, breathless and devastatingly, emotionally pure. From her place in the closet, it tugged at her and she sat up with wide eyes and words caught in her throat.

'Come on...' She heard him mutter, half angry, half desperate. 'Come on...pull it together.'

She can almost see the scrunch at his brow, the thin of his lips pressing together tightly, the hand pulling and tugging lightly at his hair in annoyance. It sounded like those shoulders, so strong and fearless and beautifully reckless, had collapsed for a moment under the weight of the world he had propped up on them with little hesitation. Atlas, for a brief moment, fell.

When she slides the closet open and peers out at him with soft, gentle eyes, she still doesn't know what she should do. Only that loneliness would not help, would make the sky heavier and more burdensome, make it harder for him to go from his knees to his feet. She hears his breath catch, the vulnerable sobs stop for a moment as he quickly wipes his eyes and looks at her. His eyes are red and tired and weary. They are old eyes, in a young body and it makes her ache.

'Ichigo...'

Again, she doesn't know what to say. He just shakes his head, more at himself than anything.

'I'm sorry for waking you Rukia. You can go back to sleep now.' His voice mirrors his eyes. Old. Weary. Again, it hurts her, seeing him this vulnerable.

As he turns his body to slide back into bed, she slides out of the closet, bare feet gently padding across the floor to him. From his sitting position, they are almost, _almost_ the same height.

'If you need to- _want_ to talk...I'm here. I've got your back.' She says with a hand on his shoulder. She does her best to emulate the calmness of her brother, the quiet comfort Renji could offer at rare moments. The rest, she thinks, goes without saying.

 _Hollows aren't the only demons we fight. But we can fight all demons together._

She knows where solitary battle with one's nightmares and demons can lead. She does not like the idea of such a thing breaking down a soul such as Ichigo. She knows that these battles, the quiet ones at the dead of night where no weapon, no armour can help are some of the most crucial and dangerous ones. Just one's soul against one's demons and it is a _brutal_ fight when the guilt and horror and terror and nightmares set in.

He considers her, his eyes softer than she's seen them before. In battle they are fierce and bright, irises dancing like the flame of a candle as he fights and protects. Outside of battle, in day to day life, they are just as bright, full of life as he argues or shouts or brashly acts out for his friends and family. Here, they are muted. Bare and exposed and she gets a glimpse of his soul in this quiet moment, and it is vulnerable, hurting and wounded, but standing stronger and higher than most other souls she has caught glimpses of.

She is impressed. She has seen lesser souls in greater stations of power. He will be fine, she decides.

She also decides that he will not have to be fine alone. Someone must protect the protector, even if he is strong and brash and reckless. Quietly, something inside her sighs as she consigns herself to a few more scratches and bruises. She can cope.

'Thank you.' He says after a time. His voice now is even, soft and quiet much like his eyes. For a moment they stay there, weighing the other up in this quiet moment outside of the heat of battle or the bustle of school. In this quiet moment, they breathe in tandem and prop one another up.

'Anytime.' She takes her hand away and ignores the coldness of the space under her fingers that have replaced his warmth, ignores the way it slowly retreats, like she is dragging it away unwillingly.

Something changes then. She knows, somehow, that this...vulnerability (she refuses to call it weakness – letting oneself feel, hurt, be exposed, it is not something to be ashamed of, rather something she thinks takes a different sort of strength – of mental strength, a test of character rather than ability) is something very few see.

There is no awkwardness as she goes back to her place in the closet. She keeps it slightly ajar, turns so she can see the slight rise and fall of Ichigo's body as he slips back to slumber. There is no awkwardness in the morning as they resume their usual banter and go about their daily routine.

Yet in the quiet moments, the stolen glances where both their eyes meet without the other meaning it, there is a thankfulness in his eyes that she understood, she cared and reached out.

She ignores how those stolen glances, those hidden looks they inadvertently share, make her heart flutter, her eyes avert themselves with haste, her face heat up. She does not linger on the shape of his lips, the way they curve when he smirks or grins, does not linger on those kind, fierce eyes that seem to pierce straight through her.

That's what she tells herself anyway. It's worked out pretty shitty for her so far but she remains optimistic.

The first time he sees her cry, he doesn't quite know how to react. Rukia, strong, smart, immovable Rukia crying? He'd be lying if he said he thought it was possible. His second instinct, after the confusion of registering those heartbreakingly gently sniffles and sobs is anger. Who hurt her? Who would he need to hurt to pay them back?

At that, he thinks he feels a rumble of approval at the back of his mind, a rumble of pride from something he should know the name of but can't quite place his finger on. He brushes it aside.

Yes, when he slowly opens that closet door, sees her with her arms around her knees, tucked into the smallest corner of her closet (and it was _her_ closet now. _Her_ sanctuary, _her_ place – if he could offer more, he would in a heartbeat), he doesn't know how to react.

Regardless, she raises her eyes to him, and while the sniffles continue, the shaking goes on, he mirrors her first reaction to his tears, letting her know he was _there_ , she could _rely_ on him.

'Rukia...' His words trail off and even Ichigo is a bit surprised at his voice. He didn't quite realise he could be that quiet, that soft.

'Nightmare.' She croaked out, short and sharp and he senses it wasn't just a one off, not just a dream of a fight gone awry but he doesn't pry. He senses he is too late to protect so he does the next best thing. He tries to comfort, to give her a hand up again as she had done for him.

'What are you doing?'

'Climbing in the damn closet, what does it look like?'

There's no bite to his words and he garners a quiet, short-lived snort from her at his awkward, gangly limbs moving about in the confined space to sit next to her.

'Damn it's small in here. Good job you're a midget, I dunno where else you'd fit if you were sized like a normal person.'

Again, it lacks any real bite and she snorts once more.

'You're an idiot, Kurosaki.'

'Ah, but I'm an idiot with legs, Kuchiki.' _He finally, finally_ settles back against the wall facing her, his feet resting next to hers – honestly, how on earth did she like it here?

There's a comfortable silence after that. The shaking stops yet the tears continue, the sobs receeding into sighs and swallows for a few seconds.

'Do you want to talk about it?'

'No.'

'...Fair enough then.' It hurts that he can do little outside of just being there, more than he thought it would, but he knows sometimes just being there is help enough. There's another period of silence and the tears stop altogether as she wipes her eyes, takes a deep breath in and exhales slowly, almost as if she'd gathered her dreams and blown them out in a single breath.

'I've got your back if you want to talk. I'll listen.' He parrots her own words back at her with a gentle half-smile that she returns. He bumps his foot against hers in solidarity, wants to do more but damnit he's an awkward ass teenager with a girl in his absurdly small closet. It's about all he's got.

 _It's enough_ , that familiar yet unnamed voice rumbles in his head. Again, he brushes it aside.

'Thank you.' Her words and smile are sincere and he brutally shuts down the flutter in his heart before it manifests itself on his – ah shit, too late, he had flushed. Thankfully, it was dark,

Much like when their situations where reversed, there was no awkwardness after that. Ichigo clambered out of the closet, leaned his head back in and told her again, if she wanted to talk about anything, just to wake him up and he got back in bed. He took a bit of extra pleasure in stretching his legs fully. He slept facing the closet, rather than the wall like usual and was glad she had left the door open this night. The slow rise and fall of her body was comforting.

The next day was business as usual. He wakes, she wakes. They banter, he sneaks food up, they banter some more. School is its usual chore.

He ignores the fact that it takes Chad saying his name three times to draw his eyes from the back of her head, ignores those heart-stopping moments when their eyes connect by accident and linger between conversations or lessons. He refuses to linger on her frankly fucking gorgeous eyes, or the way her lips shape the smirks and smiles she gives him.

Yeah. Business as usual.

A/N - This has been crossposted on AO3 under a different name - AnotherAspiringAuthor - I have some fics on there for different fandoms that aren't on here. This is a planned drabble series of the quiet moments, the intimate moments between characters; namely Rukia and Ichigo because they own my ass. By planned I mean I have no idea what the drabbles will actually be, just that there will be more. Hopefully. Please leave a review, even if you didn't enjoy and be as constructive as possible!


	2. Chapter 2

He has to wonder how time flows so fast when he's in her proximity. Time is usually like mud, slow and sticky, when he moves without her. He doesn't remember it being like this before she barged into his life and ran him through with her sword but now she's a staple of his life, moments spent apart feel horrendously slow whilst time spent together feels all too quick and fleeting.

That's not to say he doesn't enjoy the time without her; Renji, Chad, Orihime, everyone. They still make him laugh, make him mad, make him forever thankful such people are in his life. It's not like he's absolutely miserable, he's not. It's just that these moments seem a lot slower than the laughter he shares with her, the hidden glances and private half-smiles they reserve only for each other. They speed by him with such speed sometimes he wondered if that brush of the back of his hand was real, or that wink and half-smile was just wishful thinking.

God, he was so fucked for Rukia Kuchiki.

He doesn't know when or why or how it happened but something shifted in the air between them; one day, everything seemed more...electrical. Suddenly, they were dancing around each other, with eyes that lingered too long for just friends and hands that brushed too often to be just friends .

Ichigo thinks it begins to come to a head in school. It's pure chance or maybe, for once in his fucking crazy life fate is on his side. School corridors are busy and bustling and its not uncommon for people to be knocked by shoulders and shoved aside. Usually, these knocks didn't do much than jostle him; any idiot stupid enough to try knock him on purpose usually bounced off of him and into their friends. Perks of being tall.

But today, today Ichigo just wasn't on the ball. Rukia's at his side, the two of them lingering behind the others and their words are normal enough. It's the usual banter between them, lighting quick and full of wit but Rukia's fingers are in near constant contact with his, his eyes can't seem to draw themselves away from her lips and-

-And some fuckwit naturally knocks Ichigo and he staggers into Rukia. The pair of them are sent staggering into a wall, cursing as Ichigo's hands come up to steady himself. Between them...

Oh. She's close.

Her hands are fisted in his shirt to keep her from falling and he's inadvertently trapped her between him and the wall. The way she's looking up at him, soft and surprised, does no favours for Ichigo's heart rate and when her breath hitches and stunning eyes land on his lips, Ichigo's damn sure he's gonna need his dad to prescribe some heart medication for him.

Without meaning to, he's leaning down, brain not really functioning as he tilts his head, one hand coming to lightly brush her cheek and...

'Oi! Hurry up you two!' They jump apart quickly, looking anywhere but at each other, bright red. Ishida's smirking, like he knows exactly what he's just interrupted and Ichigo's seriously contemplating murder. It's fortunate for the Quincy that the corridor is crowded and Zangetsu isn't on his back outside of his Soul Reaper form.

He doesn't focus for the rest of the day. Multiple times he catches himself reading the same sentence twice, writing the same word two or three times because his body is on autopilot while his brain's still recovering.

In the back of his mind, he swears he feels Zangetsu's amusement.

She is not faring much better , he whispered to him and Ichigo looked at where she sat. She was staring out the window, paper in front of her forgotten as a thumb pulled at her lips while her eyes looked glossy and spaced out.

She would kiss you back you know.

Uh...was his sword trying to play wingman for him?

She stops the rain. I despise being wet.

His sword was trying to play wingman for him. Jesus.

Walking home was an awkward affair, filled with lots of quick glances, mouths opening then closing before anything came out, hands tightly controlled and kept to their sides. Ichigo's sure the colour of his face begins to resemble his hair.

Pull yourself together man . He's not sure if it's Zangestu or himself that thinks this but as he turns to open his mouth to say something (Just what he was about to say, he didn't know), there's a beeping from Rukia's pocket and they're off again to stop the Hollow.

Fighting, Ichigo thinks, is an excellent way to burn off tension and give his brain a break from the sweet assault that was Rukia Kuchiki.

Duck , Zangetsu prompts him almost lazily, at the same time Rukia shouts the same at him. He complies, spins with his momentum and slashes and the beast is gone. You are far too distracted Ichigo. Kindly kiss the lady and have this mess done with before it gets us killed.

'Shut it, old man.' He hisses between his teeth as he shoulders the blade. Zangetsu isn't the type to roll his eyes, but Ichigo certainly feels the sentiment from him.

Usually, sleeping after a Hollow fight is easy business. The exertion, the adrenaline drop is usually a sound remedy to send him to sleep. Not tonight though.

He had laid in bed and Rukia had laid in her place in the closet with whispered 'Goodnight's at the same time. Tossing and turning this way and that, thinking of her lips, her eyes, her laugh and smile seemed to be the order of the night. It was infuriatingly addictive, getting lost in thoughts of her.

It's with a reckless abandon and steely resolve ( Finally, Zangestu mutters with a hint of pride in his voice) that Ichigo leaves his bed, approaches the closet. He can hear the muffled movements of blankets as she too tosses and turns; it's a small comfort to him that he is not the only one.

He's not quite sure what to do when he's stood in front of her closet. (Her closet-When had it become her closet?) Should he knock? Just open it? Leave a note or some shit?

Knock you fool.

Zangetsu's a cranky old wingman, but a good one nonetheless.

It's unnecessary however; as Ichigo raises his hand to knock the closet door opens and Rukia slides out nimbly and quickly as if taken by some kind of resolve that would burn out quickly if she did not move fast.

She's taken by surprise though and halts; it's almost a mirror of their earlier situation, Rukia pinned between Ichigo and the closet behind her.

'Oh. Ichigo?'

'...I...uh, I-'

Kiss her you fool, your words are useless

'Listen, Ichigo, I-' She's swiftly cut off as he steps in, closing the distance, and places both hands on her cheeks. He leans in fast but the press of his lips against hers are soft, gentle and sweet and Ichigo wonders why he didn't do this earlier; this is wonderful. It takes Rukia a second to respond but when she does, Ichigo's sure he could do this for eons and never get bored of it.

It's a slow, sweet, unhurried first kiss in the middle of the night; time stretches slow and sweet like honey and Ichigo savours every second of it, pushing Rukia against the closet as her hands come to rest at his waist. When they break apart, it's with great reluctance, driven by that pesky need to breathe. It's a few seconds for Ichigo to let his eyes roam freely, unabashedly; taking in her messy hair, flushed face, shoulders moving in time with her ragged breathing. This time, it's Rukia that presses her lips against his, carding her fingers through his hair to drag him down gently into a more heated kiss that was still just as slow and unhurried but somehow many times more passionate.

It's a considerably longer time until they break apart again, with ragged breathing and heavy, lidded eyes.

'Well then... That was something .' As usual, his words ruin any grace the moment has. Ichigo doesn't much care though, it makes her laugh, kiss his cheek lightly and push him away playfully. It's been five minutes and already, it feels like they've been doing this for years, in the best way possible.

God, he was so fucked for Rukia Kuchiki.


End file.
